It’s been sixteen months since I created this blog. I started it with the intention to document my journey with PCOS. That, unfortunately, didn’t happen. For the last year or so, I have barely taken care of myself and been focused on plenty of things that didn’t directly heal my heart and mind.

Six months after creating this blog, I decided that I would focus on every aspect of healing myself. Instead of just talking about my experience with PCOS, I decided to branch out and discuss my experience with my relationship with food. Well, that didn’t happen. I let this blog lay in wait, gathering dust.

So, sixteen months after setting up this blog, I’ve made an actual, logical decision. I commit this blog to the discussion of my experience with PCOS, my (physical and emotional) relationship with food, my relationship with exercise, and my take on my own mental health.

I plan on making time each week to write one new post. Who knows? I might even write two! Currently, I am reading a lot of daily meditation books, including ‘Beautiful You: A Guide to Radical Self-Acceptance’ – a book that was waiting around for months to be used. This is a book I highly recommend to anyone working on their self esteem. I’ll be sharing some of the activities or questions that I find most poignant.

Disclaimer: I am not a trained and licensed therapist, psychologist, psychiatrist, or social worker. All of what I discuss is in regards to my own experience, research, and education. When talking about someone else’s research or experiences, I will respectfully and legally cite them. If I misquote someone or cite incorrectly, please let me know and I will correct my error. Don’t sue me, please! Give me a chance to correct any honest mistakes.

In the last couple months, I have been told twice that there is something about me that is not valid.

The first occurrence happened back in November. I was told by a guy that I was dating that because I have never been married and haven’t had three children, I have absolutely no idea about relationships. He told me that what I was feeling wasn’t valid, as I have no basis of what emotions in relationships are. Sure, at 33, I haven’t been married. I haven’t had children. I’ve chosen that path, because that’s what I get to do as a human. I get to navigate my way through life.

At 33, I’ve had plenty of relationships. Hello, my first relationship happened before I came out of my mother. I spent nine and a bit months inside her, developing a biochemical relationship. Growing up, I was a social person. I talked to most people and wanted to be friends with everyone. Throughout the history of my life, I’ve had relationships. It would be impossible not to have relationships, unless I was abandoned in a forest as a child and never experienced other human beings for 33 years.

I’ve been in romantic relationships. Sure, they failed. That is a common occurrence for many people out there in the world. But, I’ve been in romantic relationships. I’ve dealt with the emotions that relationships cultivate. I’ve had to learn how to deal with them. Because of being in relationships that have failed, I consistently learn what I like, need, and desire. I learn how to approach situations. My only problem is that I seem to pick people that aren’t emotionally available, or have a lot of their own emotional discovery to do.

The problem I had in that situation is that this guy has a PhD in psychology. He is a licensed therapist in two states. This is a person who one would assume is a bit more patient and open minded to the emotions of others. Nope. Not this one.

Over the course of two months, I slowly let out information about myself and past relationships. This was after a year of us being aware of each other’s presence on social media. Once the dynamic changed, I was more cautious of what information I revealed to him. Finally, on the fateful night (almost three months after dating), before I was accused of having no valid emotions, I opened up. I told him why I’d rather have an actual conversation over the phone instead of short, choppy messages through Snapchat. I told him why I feel it’s important for people to communicate consistently. I told him my experiences with my own fertility and feelings on having children. I told him how I was treated in past relationships. It was after this he claimed that my feelings aren’t valid, that I have no knowledge of relationships because I’m not a mother, nor have I ever been married.

My response was, “you are absolutely correct. I’ve never been married and I’m not a mother. I just told you that I could have a two and a half year old, but I don’t, because I heavily considered the options. However, you got married really young, cranked out three kids, and divorced after ten years. You also have consistently told me that you don’t know how to date or how to be in a healthy relationship, because you never did either. So, how can you easily tell me that how I feel isn’t valid and that I have no idea what I’m talking about when it comes to relationships?”

I can’t remember what he said, nor do I have any record of it, because, of course, it was all said over Snapchat. It seemed impossible for him to use his phone as it’s actual purpose.

[In the 2.5-ish months of us dating, he only ever called me once and that’s because I told him that Snapchat and Facebook messenger were no way to really connect with another human.]

I do remember him telling me he was annoyed and that he’d talk to me tomorrow. I remember telling him “I’m sorry you’re annoyed” and having no intention talking to him ever again.

A week or so later, I sent him a letter. I was so put off by what he told me, that I had to release the angst inside me. The short letter essentially explained why he hurt me and that he should consider how he approaches new romantic relationships if he wants them to be successful.

How did he respond? He didn’t call me. He didn’t text me.
He wrote me a damn message on Facebook.

He claimed that he really likes me. He claimed that he was really sad to see things transpire the way they did. He, again, tore down my emotions.

In a nutshell, I responded “I’m sorry you feel the way that you feel, and you are absolutely allowed to feel whatever you want. You are human, after all. If you do like me as much as you claim, in six months, you can use your phone as it is meant to be used: you can actually call me and have a real conversation with me. If we are both single and feel that we could come to some sort of an agreement, we can try dating each other again. But, understand that, while I know that I have a lot of work to do on myself, you also have to learn how to date like an adult. If you want to be in a successful relationship, take care of yourself and learn how to love yourself. I’m doing exactly the same in my own life. Be well.”

So, I ask all of you: are our emotions valid?

I truly believe they are. That’s the joy of being a human. We are all unique. We are snowflakes. How we emotionally react to situations vary on who we are in that exact moment.

We all must be mindful and caring. We must choose our words with the best intentions.

After reading the very few posts I wrote, I decided that I want to revamp this blog. Instead of it just being about my experience with PCOS, this blog will be about my experience with my overall health.

Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome is just one of many parts that make up who I am. It is the root of a few core issues I experience. Primarily, my reproductive health is affected. My mental health is affected. And, I have to work really hard to lose weight and keep it off. But, PCOS does not define me. I don’t let it. It is just a part of my body that exists.

My main focus is calorie input and output. It is the easiest way to take charge of my health. I have a history of, let’s be honest, disordered eating. During the first couple years of high school, I was restrictive with what I put in my body. I also ran cross country and (long distance) track. I put my body through the ringer those first two years. By the time I was 17, I started eating more and running less, but went through waves of restriction. The moment I went 1,000 miles away to college, I stopped running 5-6 days per week, started drinking heavily, and ate whatever I wanted. The Freshman 15 found me, plus some. That caused major confusion in my body, and myself.

In the last fifteen years, my weight has fluctuated. I have gone through periods of amazing health (bordering on disordered eating & exercise) to periods of complete lack of care for myself (again, disordered eating & lack of exercise).

I scare myself sometimes. There are occasional weeks that I find myself without much of an appetite. I’ll eat a piece of fruit or a salad and feel guilty for doing so. But, then there are weeks were I do the complete opposite. I can’t seem to stop eating. Psychologists have said and will say that this is classic anorexia-like thinking mixed with classic compulsive overeating. I’m the first to say that in those first two years of high school, I had a simple case of ED-NOS bordering on anorexia. The two therapists I have seen since then have agreed. At such a pivotal point in my life developmentally, I know and understand I was not setting my body up for success later in life. Our bodies are so intricate, and when we do more damage than good in our teenage years, it is scary how our adult bodies respond.

Here I am today, opening up about my history. A scary endeavor, but an important one. This is a way for me to heal and to find peace. And, this is one voice in a sea of voices. I’m giving you all my experience. And, I hope my experience touches speaks to someone, anyone. I’m a cheerleader for happiness. I feel that the happier we all are, the stronger our communities can be.

Please, reach out to me if you want. If you stumble across this blog and are feeling lost, do not hesitate to contact me. I’m lost, too. Instead of going at life alone, let us support each other and find joy.

Exactly a year ago I ran my first half marathon. It was the first time I had run more than 10 miles in approximately 14 years. After high school, I eschewed running. The thought of doing fartleks and hill sprints and making sure I jogged (at the very minimum) at least five days a week made me sick. Competitive running had been a huge part of my life for six years and the moment I left home for college, I decided to wash my hands of the emotional toll that running had become.

In the last year, I ran a very small amount. I had started the year wanting to train to do a triathlon for the first time. But, “life got in the way” (don’t you love that excuse?). Being a full time student and working part time, I allowed myself to get lazy. I went to the gym once, maybe twice a month. I’d go on the occasional walk around the neighborhood. I’d use the free weights very occasionally while I watched TV. I found myself getting frustrated and depressed more often, at a rate that was much quicker than when I was exercising regularly.

My cat died on July 28th 2014 and I had sunk into a deep depression in the following weeks, finding it really difficult to claw my way out. September arrived and I was feeling completely alone and hating the direction my life found itself in. Being poor and having nothing to do, I scrambled to get to the gym about four or five times the entire month. But, that was it. That was the only exercise I managed to make myself do.

That brings me to this very moment, Day Zero, the day that I have decided that I cannot afford to be sullen, depressed, and as overweight as I am. At 5’3″, I am not allowed to be 180lbs. That’s right. I said it. I am barely 5’3″ and 180lbs. Disgusting, right?

I used my fat to hide from getting painfully unwelcome attention from men I have no interest in, only to find that other men I have no interest in give me even more painfully unwelcome attention. On top of that, I have noticed that “fat girls” seem to attract all sorts of unwelcome “I met you 28 seconds ago, let me tell you everything that is wrong with my life and ask you incessantly to tell me what’s wrong with your life, even when you say no” people, people I had never encountered when I was healthy and taking care of myself.

So, it’s time I take back my life. I will take pride in my physical and mental health. I will be mindful of what I put in my body and when. I will make myself move for an hour a day, even if I’ve been on my feet for eight hours already. I will take time to journal and make sense of why I feel the way I do. I will go back to the clinic run by a graduate school that offers therapy at a price I can actually pay. And, in May 2015, I will run another half marathon. I have eight months to train for it. And, I absolutely need to train for it. I don’t want to just get through the 13.1 miles. I want to feel light when I run. I don’t want to feel like I’m running with three tires around my waist.

I may never get back to my 117lb 26 year old self. Until I can afford actual health insurance, 117lbs is an unreasonable target. By the time the half marathon happens, I’d like to have the scale read 148lbs. And, that is taking into consideration the physical change I will be doing to my body: transferring all of this excess fat into muscle. And, we all know muscle is more dense than fat. So, the scale can read 148lbs. More importantly, I want my body to feel healthy. I want clothes to fit better. I want to be able to look in a mirror and not hate what I see. That simple.

Here is a little preface:
If you didn’t read my about page, I share with you that I was diagnosed with PCOS a few years ago. The entire span of my menstrual life has been challenging. The only time I have ever had any semblance of a healthy reproductive system was for approximately a year when I was 25. That is often when women find their cycle evening out. Also, I was taking great care of myself then, which played a huge role in my reproductive health. Even then, my cycle was anywhere between 34 and 40 days. Never less than 34 days and never more than 40 days. Fast forward seven years, my cycle ranges anywhere from 25 days to 80 days. You can imagine how frustrating it is. Now imagine having aggressive PMS for an entire month. That happens at least twice a year. My body will get itself ready to have a period, then a month later, it’ll happen. Then three weeks later, I will feel like someone has taken a steel bar to my back and walking becomes the hardest thing to do. All of you Cysters out there understand, I am sure. PCOS comes with a few unfavorable side effects: excessive weight gain that is hard to control, irregular periods and many are extremely painful, PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder; if you’ve never heard of it, look it up), and the occasional burst cyst. Sometimes, when those cysts rupture, the woman experiencing that does need to see a doctor, however, in many cases, the only thing we can do is ride out the pain. For me, it is rare for me to get a burst cyst. I know exactly what is happening and that there is really nothing that can be done. I’ve never experienced the sudden pain, fever, or vomiting. In all of my experiences, the pain has aways been intense, yet a constant annoyance for about two or three days. I feel nauseated, but never enough to actually cause vomiting. My body and mind are always exhausted and I have a difficult time walking, and whichever side the cyst is on, the corresponding leg is always more difficult to move. Bending over is usually not an option and sitting down/standing up takes more effort than usual. This is what I know. This is how my body is. And, I know that if I actually take care of myself, my body will repay me kindly.

Here it is. I am back on a healthy path. In six months, my 33rd birthday will be here. I want to enter my 34th year lighter, mentally and physically.

Lots of love and light to everyone reading this. May your days be filled with laughter and joy.